But Eve was not thinking of Lloseta; she was thinking of the Casa
d'Erraha.

"My father did not speak to me of his affairs," she said. "He was
naturally rather reserved, and--and it was very sudden."

"Yes. So I learnt. That indeed is my excuse for intruding myself
upon your notice at this time. I surmised that my poor friend's
affairs had been left in some confusion. He was too thorough a
gentleman to be competent in affairs. I thought that perhaps my
small influence and my diminutive knowledge of Majorcan law--the
Roman law, in point of fact--might be of some use to you."

"Thank you," she answered; "I think we settled everything before we
left the island, although we did not see Senor Pena, your lawyer.
I--the Casa d'Erraha belongs to you!" she added, suddenly descending
to feminine reiteration.

"Prove it," said the Count quietly.

"I cannot do that."

He shrugged his shoulders with a smile.

"Then," he said, "I am afraid you cannot shift your responsibility
to my shoulders."

The girl looked at him with puzzled young eyes. He stood before
her, dignified, eminently worthy of the great name he bore--a
solitary, dark-eyed, inscrutable man, whose whole being subtly